It's My City
by RedRogue
Summary: Jack was the king of Manhattan. Spot was the king of Brooklyn. She was the queen of Queens. Territory battles are hell. They say 'all's fair in love and war'. That's true for one of them. The other is very much a lie. [Series of three oneshots. COMPLETE]
1. Queens

**A/N: Just something I've been working on. Based on a variety of songs, which I will list at the end of the story. See if you can guess them until then. I'm probably going to quote a couple. **

**_Caution!_  
This first chapter has very strong adult themes, actually, it's all in that first paragraph. Skip it if you don't like that stuff. It shouldn't affect your reading experience, I don't think.**

**-**

**It's My City**

by RedRogue

-

Newsies mostly fall into two categories: orphans, or runaways. Very rarely, you'll have a scattered few that have families they are helping support. I was a runaway, myself, so that means I used to have a family.

I was born into a well-off one too, with a father and two brothers. I had nice clothes and things, and was treated like a doll-- daddy's little girl. I was his favorite, and I figured it was because I looked so much like my dead mother, with the harsh, mocking green eyes, and caramel hair. I had a meaner face, though, so I wasn't really considered pretty. Just intimidating. My brothers looked more like my father, but unlike my father, they were bullies. Whose brothers weren't? All in all, they were the only taint in my sunny life.

Then, when I was eight, my father died, and everything changed. My brothers and I were sent to live to our only known relative: Our uncle 'Weasel' as everyone called him, who worked at a newspaper office for and with the scum of New York. There, my expensive clothing was replaced with work clothes, my soft, baby-fatted figure replaced with hard muscle, my porcelain skin replaced with ugly calluses. I grew used to being dirty all the time. My brothers made a name for themselves as thugs for Uncle Weasel, beating up newsie kids at any excuse. When I aged a bit into a teen, I joined them. It was easy to get extra cash from them, convenient to keep them in line with force.

I spent a lot of time in the streets, hating my creepy uncle. He made me nervous, always rubbing my legs when I sat close, stroking my hair and face all the time, until it slowly progressed into the touching of other, more private places. I didn't even realize it was wrong. I just knew I hated it.

I remember the day it became too much. He stripped down that day as well, and in the dark, I felt him come on me. I don't know what came over me, but a sudden bravery swept through me, and I began to wriggle in any place I could, fighting it with everything in me. But accident, I kicked him where it hurt. He groaned and fell off, in which I took the opportunity to grab what little things I had and run.

I ran as far as I could. I slept in the streets gladly, for the first time feeling a sense of true freedom. That's when my bold, leaderly complex came over me, and I vowed never to let anyone use me like that again.

-

I remembered when I first met Conlon. He wasn't a leader then, just a small section was considered his. Those docks. He liked those docks. Even when he finally did become leader he stuck around those ports.

But his reputation was already spreading. I'd heard his name thrown around like a brick, boasting of pain and destruction. I was no timid newsie myself, but even I had enough sense to figure he was not a man to mess with. Some of my fellow girl newsies had come and gone from his lands, always suffering heartache. "He was a jackass," some would complain. Others would say: "he's a saint." One thing I quickly learned: for all those who loved him, he never loved any of them. I vowed never to fall into that trap, no matter what. I didn't need a stupid thing like love anyway. I was independent, and I liked it.

But it was easier said than done, for I had never even seen the boy before. It was easy to say "that'll never happen to me" when all he was, was a name.

But then I met him. I had beaten up two of his fellow Brooklynites bloody when they had tried to get fresh with me. I had surely broken the arm of one of them, and the balls of the other.

More than anything, I hated it when boys exerted themselves over women—but _especially_ when it was sexual, as if that was all we were good for. Not to even mention it brought back bad memories. It was something that made me boil over every time. I was immediately taken to stand trial in front of their manager.

"So you're the tough little snipe that woiked over Mickey an' Fingers."

He stepped of his high tower like it he was climbing off a pedestal to grace me with his presence. When he got a good look at me, he seemed a little surprised.

"I was expectin' a boy."

They all say that. They all respect me until they meet me and find out I'm a girl. Then all bets are off. I hate that.

"_I_ was expectin' somebody taller," I shot back. "Not a short stack that carries a big stick to compensate."

He wasn't expecting me to come back. Not to him. No one came back at him. He turned around slowly, looking at me in a new light. He stuck an authoritive cane under my chin.

"Well, now," he said mockingly, a grin dancing dangerously on the edges of his lips. "Ain't _you_ a bundle a' sunshine?"

Sunshine. It was a name that stuck, a sarcastic nickname for my shrewish attitude. He was usually the only one who called me Sunshine, while everyone else soon shortened it to 'Sunny'. No, he insisted on the full name that he had given me.

I hated that too.

Oh, how vast was my hate for him. There was hardly a thing about him that I didn't hate: I hated the God complex he flaunted around so easily… I hated those cold, gray eyes that didn't know how not to glare… I hated how easily he could make people fear him… I hated how he was so small yet packed such a hard punch… I hated the way he was so skinny he had to wear pants too short for him just so they would fit around his lean waist… I hated those steel-toed boots that could break legs with a single kick… I hated the way he rolled up his sleeves, I hated that slingshot, I hated that cane, I hated him.

Until I fell in love with him.

To this day, I don't know how it happened. One day, I was ringing his neck, the next, I was kissing it. That's also what they all say. No one ever sees him coming.

For a while, it was bliss. I watched him as he rose to power, and I, in turn, began to make a name for myself in my own town, a lot done by his example. Only a select few knew of our little affair, which is how we both wanted it. It was a strange relationship, the best parts were without words. I was stubborn and so was he, and we fought like no other, with words and with our fists.

But I kept coming back. He always took me back. Then there were no more words on the matter. It was just how it was. I didn't even realize I was in love with him, really. It seemed more business than pleasure. There were many times I would stand in his drafty doorway, deliberating if it was too late to go home, to just leave him behind. I didn't want to need him. I didn't want to be under his control like everything else was.

"Youse comin' to bed, or what?" he would ask in his cold way. I hated how everything that came out of his mouth was like a command. If there was one thing I hated, it was being bossed around. But I hated sleeping without him more.

Until that fateful day, that horrible day, when my friend Penny-Annie came to me with a sorrowful face, and pity in her eyes. I suspected what was on the tip of her tongue before she even spoke it. But somehow, hearing it uttered was so much worse.

"I saw Spot with another woman."

Now, I was not the kind of person who cried. Leaders do not cry. You had to be tough out in that world, and I was as tough as the lot of them. But this surprisingly jarred me closer to tears than anything else ever had, or ever would. I didn't realize how much he meant to me until the threat of him leaving my life was upon me.

For two days, I refused to sell, until I wrapped my head around the fact. I came to the decision that I wasn't going to take this lying down. I wasn't going to lose face, I wasn't going to sit back and let him crush me. I'd beat him to it.

I had a friend, nicknamed River, who had a longtime eye on me. A little bold flirting was all it took. When Spot came back to my place that night, he found me in bed with the blond, and it was done. Spot walked right out of my life without argument or even a smidgen of distress, and that was that.

A year later, the Territory Wars started. The 'workin' boys of New York' were always territorial, but until then, they had always respected each other's lands. I think it was the Bronx that first started breaking the rules. They conquered East Side as their own, and it started an outrage. Some fought for peace, some fought for a piece of land for themselves. But that time in life was chaos. Kids were taken to the Refuge by the truckloads. Hospitals had more kids than soldiers.

My friends began to grow in numbers, until I had a piece of land I could call my rule. Around those parts, I became as notorious as the King himself. I was not only scarred and badass on the outside, I was on the inside as well.

For a while, we were part of those who fought for peace, but when the easy opportunities arose, we couldn't help but spread out our name. At times we got worked over until we could barely stand. Others, we were the ones doing the harsh beatings.

But then the battle for Queens started. Being a girl, for once in my life, came in handy. My hard fists and clever tactics took them all by surprise. They didn't expect it, coming from a girl, and all. By the end of the second year, the whole of Queens… was mine.

I was proud of all I had accomplished, even though others had said it was impossible. I had climbed the status chain until I had finally set myself up as leader. I was the 'Queen of Queens' as they would say. It was good land, and everyone knew it. It wasn't as big as Brooklyn, or nearly as honest as Manhattan, but it was a rich town, and one of the most profitable selling grounds.

And Spot wanted it.

I remember that day on the Bridge. My men and his men marched right up to each other, equally furious at each other's actions in this war. My men were just as impressive as his, just as mean. Lately, their tensions had doubled. I have to admit, this was mostly my influence for my own feelings towards Brooklyn, and more specifically, their leader.

When I saw him, my left eyebrow raised and I frowned in distaste. I found the exact same look on his face as well, as we looked each other over. We both put on the façade that this nothing had ever happened between us before.

Oh, I hated Conlon. I began to doubt there had ever been a time when I hadn't hated him. He was such a fake, a bully, a jackass… Everything about him offended me. I was insulted by his mere presence. He didn't seem to be able to stand me, either.

"Where's your leader?" he demanded in a bold, commanding tone that came natural to him.

"You're lookin' at her."

Immediately his large, menacing boys, who just a second ago had looked so serious, exploded into laughter. Even the ever-composed Spot Conlon broke an amused smirk. I folded my arms indignantly, feeling my temper rise. I was not one to stand for disrespect, and especially not from Conlon.

"_You're_ the new leader?" he scoffed. "You gotta be kidding me. This ain't no ballet, woman. This is war."

"No joke?" I spat back. "Excuse me while I hang up my _tutu_. You'd better start talkin' somethin' that grabs my interest, Conlon, or I'm walkin'."

He stepped up close to me, and I let my fist curl into a firm ball, ready for anything.

"Alright, here's a deal for you, Sunshine: why don't I just take your cute little ass home," --he slapped my butt as he said this-- "Nail you a few times, and we'll call it even, huh?"

Infuriated, I immediately flicked his hand off my rear end and slugged him a good one in the jaw. Even more angry now, Spot instinctively grabbed his cane and came at me with fuming rage, having to be held back by his own men. My boys had to do the same for me, since I was quite ready to commit murder where I stood.

"You asked for it, bitch!" Spot shouted at me. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a girl!"

"You just go ahead and try it, you dumbass! You think I'm _afraid_ of you?"

"You'd _better_ be!" Spot warned me as my men dragged me off with much difficulty. "You and your stupid city are goin' to _HELL_!" he shouted as we were pulled apart. "You hear me? To _HELL_!"

It didn't take me long to learn that Conlon does not hand out his promises lightly. He was right. I should have been afraid. When you were on his bad side, Spot fought dirty. And when he knew intimate things about you, you knew you were in for it. Spot didn't use brawn. He used brains. He knew where the killing blow was with me. In the heart. My rule over Queens survived. My soul did not.

They say 'all's fair in love and war'. That's true for one of them. The other is very, very much a lie.

-

**Next chapter in Spot's point of view. This was an idea I just ran with today. Please tell me what you think. If you think it's bogus, I'll leave it alone after next chapter. If not, I'll keep going. Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	2. Brooklyn

**It's My City**

by RedRogue

-

2. Brooklyn 

**-**

Newsies fall into one of two categories: the leaders or the followers. Those that follow will always be stragglers. They are made to have their decisions made for them. Unfortunately, the followers outnumber the leaders. If only they realized that in numbers, they truly held the power. But no. They follow the leader like scared little chicks to a mother hen, not one stepping out of line.

Now, on the other hand, those that lead, like myself, are born to survive, to live to their fullest extent with what they've been given. Or beyond what they have lacked.

I did not have parents. My authority was law; always has been. That's how I liked it.

I'm not saying I'm a loner. But those that mattered to me had to earn their place on the list.

When I was free, I decided that I wanted it all. Not so much for the power, but for the control. And I got it. I got the men behind me, the women beside me, and the city before me. Even my best friend, Jack, knew that I held the power. I had control. Complete control.

Well, almost.

Then the stupid bitch showed up. That horrible embodiment of all things I hated in a woman. God, she was a raging volcano: one minute she was calm, the next, she's exploding fire all in your face. She was an unpredictable shrew, who had to contradict everything I said just for the sake of being contradictory, and simply refused to be controlled. She was unpredictable, as stubborn and badass as I could claim in myself, and just as cruel. Not to mention she could probably kick my ass, if she caught me off-guard.

Call it narcissistic if you will, but I liked it. She fascinated me. She was sexier than anything I'd ever seen before, and the mere sight of her made me want to nail her where she stood. Of course, I would never allude to this to her, but I knew it in my mind.

To her, this 'love' bit was a game, a game I sometimes won… sometimes she won. It depended on the day. One thing for sure, every day was not like the one before. This went on longer than I had expected, and then some… seasons passed before I knew it, spring into summer, summer into fall. Jack even began to notice a change in my attitude, a more laid-back, relaxed attitude. He called it being 'happier', but I would deny that to my grave.

I grew used to having her around, and didn't even realize _dependant_ as well, on her being around. At night, I would go to sleep, and wake up with her next to me. Sometimes she would be there when I got home, sometimes she wouldn't arrive until the middle of the night. But she would always come, and she would always wake up next to me.

And she would always bring that dumb cat with her. It was a little multicolored animal she found in the gutter, which she didn't even have the sense to name. She just called it 'the cat' or sometimes even just 'cat'. The thing loved her. She loved it. She found it a friend.

She tried to get me to name them, but I refused. Stupid thing, to name an animal, as if it were human. They were just animals, right? They had no place in the world but to be stupid and go about their stupid business. She, on the other hand, took ages to name the other cat. Finally she decided on naming him after some painter. Vincent Van-something or other. I could never remember, but it didn't matter, because his name eventually shifted into 'Vinny' anyway.

She hated me as much as I hated her, yet somehow, we were crazy about each other. Love is a stupid thing. Nothing good ever comes from it. Trusting her was like begging for heartache. I just didn't think it would happen to me. I thought I was in control.

-

The sight is forever burned into my memory bank.

It was raining that day. I get flashes, like the lightning storm that raged that night. Images of my hand reaching for the handle of her door, of said door swinging open, of the moving figures under her sheets. They might as well have been ghosts, for how much they haunted me since. The sounds of her pleasurable moans screech painfully in my ears every time I think on it. She knows I caught her. The bitch. And she didn't even have the courtesy to try to hide her indiscretion, or even stop humping the bastard, when I walked in. They just kept right on going. Almost as if she meant to torture me like that.

I simply walked away. I didn't know what else to do, or think, or say. I was utterly shell shocked, my jaw locked shut the whole way home. I walked all the way across that bridge, thinking of how lucky that bastard was that I didn't see his face, because if I had, I would've hunted him down and castrated him as soon as my mind was back in the right place. I hoped to God he was worth it to her.

Then I woke up and for the first time, the room was empty and the animals were gone. It was the strangest feeling, a sense of uncomfortable restlessness, as if I didn't belong in my own place. I dreaded going to sleep at night, because I didn't want to wake up without her. I soon began to put pillows in her place just so I could get some rest. But this made for a deceptive illusion, because every morning after that, I expected to see her there next to me. When I turned and saw the empty place, it was like drinking from an empty cup.

The winter came extra cold that year. And extra long. I didn't see her again for the rest of the winter, or the spring, or the summer. Fate tortured me with reminders of her: The opening of some exhibit, and guess who was the feature painter. Girl newsies were everywhere I looked. I saw a stray I could swear was Cat. One of my best friends was worried his girl was cheating on him.

Throughout this time, I became a new man, a meaner man, a hardened man. I would no longer stand for foolishness, not in my self or in anyone else. My anger gave me strength. My strength gave me power. I gave my dead heart to Brooklyn, and vowed that be it's final resting place. I never told anyone of my past with Sunshine, and as far as I knew, neither had she.

By the time the following winter came rolling in, the Territory Wars began, and I became a man with purpose. To conquer. People soon came to know and fear Brooklyn, scattering when they heard our shouts.

Then I saw her again. She would not run. She faced me head on.

Little did I know, she was now the new queen of Queens. My bitchy ex was the first lady newsie to lead a town gang. Go figure.

She took something from me. So I decided I wanted payback. I wanted it in the form of her beloved town. They say that the battle between Brooklyn and Queens was the most intense, the most impassioned, and the bloodiest battle of the Territory Wars. I believed it. I would not give up, and neither would she. It was a matter of pride, of salvaging what was left of our dignity. We were equally matched. It was a stalemate for months. We could not lose.

Territory battles are hell.

-

It was raining that day as well. In the middle of the night, I heard a knock on my door. When I went to answer it, she was already leaving. It was a sight I didn't believe, like an outrageous dream you were aware you were in. I went into the pouring rain and chased her down, yanking her shoulder around to make her face me, and demanded a reason to why she was here.

"Lemme go!" she ordered me, but I held on tightly to her arm. "Just leave me alone!"

"Ya come here in the middle a' the night," I snarled. "Then youse expect me to just let ya walk? Start talkin', bitch!"

"I hate you!" she protested, fists flying at my shoulder. "You're ruinin' me! I _hate_ you!"

Still I held firm. I couldn't let her go. I wasn't ready to see her go.

"I'm just takin' what I'm due, woman," I snapped back, with eyes wide in hostility. "If anyone should be pissed, should be _me_, ya stupid whore!"

"I never did anythin' you didn't do first, ya filthy bastard!"

I immediately released my hold on her and shoved her away.

"What the _hell_ are ya talkin' about, woman?" I demanded, only growing angrier by the second. "I walked in on youse and with my own eyes saw ya getting screwed over by some asshole, and youse expect me to just--"

"--Oh, _boo_ _hoo_," she interrupted me. "I only did that _after_ I found out you were screwin' some other girl."

I looked at her straight in the eye. The rain began to let up, but the fog started to roll in.

"Sunshine," I said very seriously, keeping my raging temper in check. "I haven't screwed another woman since I met ya. I didn't _need_ to."

I'll never forget the look on her face, watching her expression plummet to the ground. Her skin went pale, and she didn't look like she was breathing.

"That's right…" I agreed. "_You_ are the only traitor among us, you dirty bitch. And you made me love you…"

"--You're lyin'," she said decidedly, after a moment of deliberation. "They _told_ me…"

"Wonder how much they's got paid for sayin' it," I taunted. "And how much they's wanted us to break up."

Sunshine suddenly dropped to her knees.

"Oh, my God… how could I be so blind…" she put her face in her hands. "All this time… and River was just lookin' for a good lay."

"Who the hell is 'River'?"

"The 'asshole who screwed me over'," she repeated my own words to help me realize it with her.

My hand instinctively went to my side as it all became clear. I felt the cold metal of my gold-tipped cane, my tense fingers stroking it, before clenching it so hard my knuckles went white.

Murder had entered in my mind. 'Hunting down and castrating' sounded good right about then as well.

Then I looked at the bitch. The beautiful, badass bitch. I offered my hand out to her, and lifted her back up to her feet. She kissed me in the rain. I let her.

She had control over me once more.

The hunt for the bastard would have to wait until morning. Tonight, I was going to screw the hell out of my girl Sunshine.

Then I was going to wake up next to her, and stare at her until the mood struck me to do otherwise.

-

**One more chapter to go, in Jack's POV. Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	3. Manhattan

**It's My City**

by RedRogue

-

**_3. _Manhattan**

**-**

Newsies fall into one of two categories: Those that sell because they have to, and those that sell because they want to.

As for me, I sell because I have to. It's the only way I get to eat, to be happy, to live. Maybe I'll get to live better in Sante Fe someday… maybe not. I'm just going to take my time.

But my friend Spot… he sells because he _wants_ to. It's the only way he knows to be. The kid has the incredible ability to transform a dime into a dollar. He could quit selling anytime he'd like, but he keeps on selling. And for the longest time, I couldn't figure out why. Why would someone choose a life of the cold streets, of petty thievery, of ruthless gangs? Of black-eyes, torn clothes, and narrow escapes from the law?

Best I could guess, it made Spot feel more alive or something. Way I figured, it was because he was a newsie, through and through. That's it. Nothing more to it. The man was a machine. He liked it.

Yet he still seemed to know how to have fun and joke around when we were alone. He'd make fun of my dreams, and I'd make fun of the fact that he didn't have any.

"I have dreams," he argued with me like he did everything. "Theyse just different then yours, that's all."

"Like what?" I scoffed. "What does Spot Conlon want?"

"A good bath. Steamin' hot watah. Tub so slippery smooth you can't get out of it."

"What, no girls in that tub witcha?" I asked, searching for more of a soul in the empty creature. He reminded me there was none to be found.

"I don't need a woman," he said firmly. "Broads are too stupid. They only know how to mess things up."

But yet, he had so many. They came running when he called, even though he cast them off like disposable pleasures every time. That's truly all they were to him. He didn't need them. They were just something to do.

Most of the time, the man acted as if women didn't even exist in the world. Some pretty lady comes walking by, we all stop, while he keeps right on walking.

Like I said, the man was an empty, soulless machine.

Until one day, all that changed…

-

He didn't act much different really, but I sensed it immediately only because I knew him. There was a twitch on the edges of his mouth when he spoke, even when he talked business. His face seemed to have more color. His usually grayish eyes were a little bluer. I couldn't figure out what was going on, and he sure as hell wouldn't tell me. I suspected what it was, but I couldn't be sure.

So I went about the steps in finding out. The first step? Hint around to pinpoint it. It was a dangerous game, but a necessary step.

So I waited for a good opportunity. There were rumors of mutiny and new leaders rising all over New York. Spot came to _me_ for once, to talk about it with me and the boys over a poker game like the big shots did. I remember his smile seemed immovable.

"I raise you…" he said boldly, examining his cards to weigh their worth. "Eighty cents and this here cane."

Immediately all boys leaned away from Spot, some throwing their cards down in immediate surrender, others taking a little longer to consider it, but eventually coming to the same decision. That cane was no bluff. Not with Spot.

But I would not fold. He didn't scare me. I stared at the smug grin, knowing that it was not the cards that made him smile so. It amused me to no end.

"I wonder why you're so _happy_ today, Spot," I taunted with hinting words. He looked at me, not suspecting a thing, or at least not letting it faze him.

"I'm feeling lucky," he replied smoothly.

I hinted more clearly.

"_Got_ lucky, more like it."

The room hushed. Where usually there would be hoots and hollers at a diss comment like that, there was only silent shock. They all knew what happened when Spot got called out on something. Even if it was his best friend saying it.

His eyes flared with murder, showing their old gray color. He slowly slid his cards onto the table facedown, freeing up his tense hands. He lifted his nose in the air, letting his eyes look down at me angrily. I feared for my life but never let it show even for a moment. I glared right back, letting a smirk grace my lips. My eyes challenged him to hurt me. I knew he wouldn't dare. He was smart enough to know defending himself would only prove my words right.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Racetrack tried to referee. "Why don't we stick to cards, here, eh? At least give me a chance to win my money back before youse kill each oddah."

He didn't kill me, but he didn't smile again the rest of the night.

Having my suspicions confirmed, I went on to step two:

I followed him.

I kept a good distance, since Spot always seemed to know when he was being followed. Not this time, I'd be double sure of that. We walked for hours, all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge and headed straight on till Queens. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. He crept through a small hole through a wooden fence, across a dirt field, and into a small apartment building where he simply let himself in. I went in too. He conquered three flights of stairs, and escaped behind a red door. I could go no further.

So I waited. I helped myself to a seat on the staircase, and listened. I heard his voice through the thin door, then a _woman's_ voice came next.

I had my answer, and it brought a smile to my face. Everyone falls under the same love spell eventually. I was obliviously happy for my friend and whoever this dame was.

I don't remember falling asleep. But I very clearly remember waking up. I heard Spot's heavy boots clambering down the stairs, walking right past my hiding place in a dark corner. Then, he stopped, halfway down the staircase, speaking over his shoulder.

"You'd bettah not breath a word of this to anyone, Jack," he warned in a defeated voice.

Like I said, Spot always seemed to know when he was being followed.

I walked home with him that night, most of the way in silence. I spent half the time trying to figure out what to say, or even if I should say anything at all.

"Don't let her go," I remember breaking the silence with.

He looked at me with confusion, but didn't reply.

"I mean," I tried to explain. "She that can rope in the 'great Conlon' must be _some_ girl, ya know?"

I saw in his eyes, and knew I was right on the money. He'd never admit it, of course. But it was obvious.

But seasons changed, and I noticed the transition yet again. Whatever it was that took this girl away from him, I somehow knew it wasn't his fault. I knew because had he had any chance in the world, he would have never let the only happiness in his life go.

But I knew she was gone, because he changed again, this time for the worst. He suddenly became a brutal man, operating in cruel ways that weren't natural to him. His soul, if possible, seemed emptier than ever before.

When the Territory Wars began, he was merciless and uncaring, and led his men with a Napoleonic attitude. He distracted himself from facing his own pain by conquering neighboring towns, and adding them to his own claim. He became obsessed with Brooklyn, and was determined that everyone knew that they were not people to mess with. I guess his pride was shaken, and now he was trying to overcompensate for his self-doubt by being all the more notorious.

I helped him at times, figuring that if only he could get the land he wanted, he would stop. . It didn't work. It only got worse.

I remember his biggest battle. It was against Queens. He had some sort of fixation on the town, a hatred like no other town before it. There was something deeper hidden in the streets of that place, something that insulted Spot with it's very existence.

Then I found out that the leader of Queens… was a woman.

Once again, I set out to unravel the mystery that was Conlon. I wandered aimlessly in those streets, and somehow found myself heading back to that apartment building I had followed Spot to that one night. Through the hole in the fence and across the dirt field I went, heading up those stairs, unsure what I would find at the top.

I stopped mid-way, when I heard voices on the other side of the wooden door. I bent down to my stomach, watching the shadows of the feet through the backlit crack underneath the door.

"Com'on, Sunshine," a male voice said. "Why not?"

"I told ya," a tough womanly voice replied threateningly. "Never again. I know I told you that, because I was there when I said it. An entire _year _ago."

"What's the mattah with ya?" the boy seemed frustrated. "Not still cryin' over _Conlon_, are ya?"

Silence came for a moment. My heart stopped when I heard the familiar name.

"GET OUT," the woman commanded firmly. "Use the stairs or out the window, River— your choice."

"Fine, fine…" the boy muttered, and I saw the doorknob jiggle, and bolted to that dark corner to hide, just as the blonde-haired kid exited the apartment.

"You weren't that good anyway," the kid named River mumbled one last time, before going down the stairs and out of sight.

I followed the kid outside, and halfway across that dirt field. I beat the entire story out of him, right there. I made sure he bled, but I made sure to leave a good piece of him for Conlon. He'd be after him soon enough.

Then I climbed those apartment stairs again, heading up for that battered room. I knocked on the door, then let myself in.

I saw her, and I immediately knew. I knew why she was worth all the trouble. I knew why she had bore him heartache. I knew why he loved her. She was everything I had imagined, and more.

The girl immediately bolted to her dresser, grabbing a slingshot and good-sized rock to threaten me.

"Who are you?" she demanded boldly.

"Jack," I replied.

She must've recognized the name, because she promptly lowered the slingshot.

"What do you want?"

"To deliver a message," I said, pulling out a cigarette from my pocket and lighting up. I always lit up after a good fight. "Your boy River down there sang some interesting songs."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she said, waving me off impatiently. "You're friends with Conlon; that makes you my enemy."

"Yeah, I'm his friend," I agreed, taking in a large puff of smoke, enjoying the relaxing feeling it gave me in my lungs. Then I let it all blow out again. "That's why I'm bothering with you at all. Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but I knew what you are to him. And that's pretty much everything."

I let the cigarette fall to the ground, and crushed it underfoot.

"And your blonde friend is the enemy, not him."

"What?" she said. "What do you mean?"

But I was already leaving. She tried to chase me down, but I didn't let her. She needed to be left in limbo, with only the nagging curiosity remaining. She needed to be unsatisfied, so she would seek out the truth from the source. She would seek answers from Spot. The story would unfold. They would be mended.

The first of the night's rain graced my eyes. I'd done my good deed for the year.

It was too bad it was too late for them. All three of us knew they were too deep into the war. Suddenly deciding that all they had been fighting for, that all their men that had bled in their streets, all for nothing? It couldn't be done. It was like betrayal. In the end, they had to go their separate ways, for the good of their cities. At least now they knew the truth, even if they couldn't act upon it.

But, you never know with the mysterious Conlon. Spot always seemed to find a way.

I decided a few things on my rainy walk home that night.

I decided that any girl that can rope in Conlon must be _some_ girl.

I decided Conlon was soulless no longer.

And I decided that I envied them, for they had such a love as I had never witnessed before.

-

**That's it! Hope you all enjoyed this little blurb of inspiration I had. Please review. I'd love to hear your final thoughts.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue  
PS. Soundtrack list will be up as soon as I am finished typing it.**


	4. Soundtrack List

A/N: Oh yeah—I promised you a soundtrack, didn't I? Sorry for the wait. These are songs that inspired and/or are fitting to the story, just as I promised. Some of you guessed them already—good job noticing them! I strongly urge you to download the one's you don't know. It's worth it.

**-**

**Music from the story – It's My City:**

-

Track 1: _Fighter_ – **Cristina Aguilera  
_Why:_ **This in part inspired the character of Sunshine, and a bit of the plot.  
**_Relevant lyrics:_** _"I heard you're goin' round playing the victim now, but don't even begin feeling I'm the one to blame…"_

Track 2: _The First Day of My Life_ – **Bright Eyes  
_Why:_ **Inspired the final scene of chapter two, when they make up in the rain.  
**_Relevant lyrics:_** _"I went out in the rain and suddenly everything changed…" and "I think I was blind before I met you…"_

Track 3: _ The Animals Were Gone _–** Damien Rice**  
**_Why:_** Kay, _duh_… it's pretty much a good chunk of Spot's disappointment in the second chapter. Listen and you will know exactly what part was inspired by this.  
**_Relevant lyrics:_ **_"Woke up and for the first time, the animals were gone…" and "Waking up without you is like drinkin' from an empty cup…"_

Track 4: The Ex Factor – **Lauryn Hill  
_Why:_** A painstakingly beautiful break-up song that sums up the love part Sunshine and Spot completely.  
**_Relevant lyrics_: **_"Loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars…" and "I keep letting you back in… how can I explain myself?"_

Track 5: _Always _– **Blink 182  
_Why: _**A good song for Spot, since it shows his love and frustration all in one song._**  
Relevant lyrics: **"I'm so sick of fights, I hate them, let's start again for real…" and "I just want to hold you, touch you… kiss you, taste you, all my always."_

Track 6: _Stories_ – **Trapt**_  
**Why:**_ This one is relevant to both of their thoughts. And it's a pretty song.

**_Relevant lyrics:_** _"You found a lie, and then it grew, I found myself still thinking of you…"_

Track 7: _Alive With the Glory of Love_ – **Say Anything  
_Why:_ **This song is so perfect, I had to throw it in too. It's relevant to love in the midst of war.  
**_Relevant lyrics:_** _"When I watch you, wanna do you, right where you're standing, right on the foyer, on this dark day, right in plain view…" and "You're lovely baby, this war is crazy, I won't let you down…"_

Track 8: _Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off_ (edited version) – **Panic! At the Disco  
_Why:_** This inspired the 'cheating' scene, and Spot's thoughts on seeing that 'fateful sight'.  
_**Relevant lyrics: **"Testosterone boys and Harlequin girls…" and "Then think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it…"_

Track 9: _Liar (It Takes One to Know One) _– **Taking Back Sunday  
_Why_:** I described Spot and Sunny's relationship as one in secret. This song is a good secret lovers song, without being cheaters on other people.  
_**Relevant lyrics:** "Your 'spot'less instincts are valid…" and "Liar, liar, if we're keeping score…"_

Track 10: _Linger _– **Cranberries  
_Why_:** Completely Sunny, up and down and all over.  
_**Relevant lyrics:** All of it._

Track 11: _Will You_ – **P.O.D.  
_Why_:** An angry point of view from Spot, yet romantic all at the same sime.  
_**Relevant lyrics:** "Will you still love me tomorrow? Will you stay with me today?" and all of the second verse._

Track 12: _Be Without You _– **Mary J. Blige  
_Why_:** A Sunny song in voice and point of view, but a some of Spot in some of the words… a good final song for the soundtrack.  
_**Relevant lyrics:** "We've been too strong for too long…" and "Now if you're down on love or don't believe this ain't for you…"_

-

**Sorry for the wait! Thanks for reading, ya'll.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


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